


a heart of stone

by Anxiety_Elemental



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Ballad 39: Tam Lin, Fairy Tale Elements, Kingsmourne fucked me up fam, Multi, Polyamory, World of Warcraft: Shadowlands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29541801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anxiety_Elemental/pseuds/Anxiety_Elemental
Summary: At the end of seven yearsWe pay a tithe to Thros,I am so fair and full of fleshI fear it be myselfTaelia and Wrathion try to win back their true love from the realm of Death
Relationships: Taelia Fordragon/Anduin Wrynn, Taelia Fordragon/Wrathion, Taelia Fordragon/Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30





	1. hold me fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Kingsmourne I needed fic of Anduin being saved with the power of love and hugs.
> 
> ...this chapter isn't that, instead it's a bunch of setup that got away from me but I'll take my catharsis where I can
> 
> Content warnings include: brief discussion of the aftermath of torture and Anduin being sad

After Taelia had moved to Kul Tiras, but before she was old enough to go to taverns to hear the traveler’s tales, she sated her budding wanderlust with traditional Kul Tiran stories. There was a musician, a round woman with an old guitar and a songbird’s voice, who would setup by the fountain in the Tradewind District, and play for the crowds. She sang old Drustvar ballads, and there was one Taelia heard from her more than any other.

She sang a song of a Kul Tiran maiden who fell in love with a stolen man. She had gone into a red forest to pick flowers, which drew the eye of an unearthly guardian. He told her he’d been human, once, until he’d become lost in the forest, when the witches dragged him down from his horse and cursed him. When she asked what would become of him, trapped in this dark and haunted place, he said:

 _“At the end of seven years  
_ _We pay a tithe to Thros,_  
 _I am so fair and full of flesh  
_ _I fear it be myself.”_

—

Taelia doesn’t want to stay in Oribos.

There’s so much else she could be doing! Mortal champions returned to Oribos with stories about the realms of the Shadowlands: the golden fields of Bastion, the stricken battlefields of Maldraxxus, the starlit groves of Ardenweald, the dark forests of Revendreth. She wanted to see them all! But her Father needed her. Anduin needed her. If she left to explore she could miss something important. She had to stay to make sure her Father was safe, to learn how to save Anduin from Torghast.

_“Taelia,” Anduin whispered, as if her name were a prayer. “There’s something I need to tell you.”_

So she stays. She stays and she tries to calm her restless spirit. There is no day or night in Oribos, no cycle in the Shadowlands at all, the creatures of this realm do their business without pause. Time is not a construct of Death, one of the Attendants once said to her.

She, and all the other living who’ve made a temporary home in Oribos, make do with what they have. The ‘inn’ in Oribos lacks any actual accommodations a living being would need to settle down. Galeheart is back home in Boralus, all her friends back on Azeroth, and despite her best efforts trying to talk to her Father was difficult. The Lord Admiral was safe, at least, and that gave her some hope. (If only Taelia had been faster, stronger, more alert, maybe Lady Proudmoore wouldn’t be here, a new shake to her hands, and her face would not be so gaunt.)

Taelia took to jogging laps around the outer ring of the city. Out there were only the Protectors on their silent, eternal vigil, and she could look out at the distant planes, the unearthly sky, swirls of anima leading to distant worlds she may never get to see. If there was anyone else out one the rings with her, they kept to themselves, not looking at her or anyone else.

Usually.

This time, there were two people huddled in an alcove which usually only held the Brokers’ extra goods. There was a Broker, and a human silhouette she recognized, one with curly black hair, hands folded behind his back.

Wrathion.

_Taelia knocked on the door to Anduin’s chambers, anxious under the gaze of his guards. Stormwind’s culture was much more formal than Kul Tiras’, whenever she entered the keep she felt all the eyes on her, disapproving frowns following her, noting every little thing out of place. It doesn’t help that her heart flutters like a bird and her stomach twists, she has no idea what Anduin needs to talk about._

_Anduin answered the door himself, and greeted her with a soft, reassuring smile. As she walked into his sitting room, she relized someone else was already there, standing by the crackling fireplace._

_“Advisor Wrathion,” she said, surprised, glancing at Anduin, then back to Wrathion. “I did not mean to interrupt if you were meeting with Anduin.”_

_Wrathion seemed equally baffled by her presence. “I wasn’t aware Lady Fordragon would be joining us.” Wrathion said, turning to Anduin._

_“Just Taelia,” she said, reflexively. Taelia still wasn’t sure what to make of Wrathion. She never met a dragon before him, but every tale she’d ever heard about them, especially black dragons, warned her to be wary of such creatures. But Wrathion was an old friend of Anduin’s, and no friend of Anduin’s could be wicked._

_Anduin’s voice breaks through her anxious thoughts, but with worry of his own. “I need to talk to both of you. Please, sit down.”_

Wrathion was with one of the Brokers, speaking in quiet tones. She kept close to the wall, walking slowly to keep her boots and armor from making too much noise, until she could make out Wrathion’s words.

“…I am prepared to negotiate a price, and can pay with a variety of currencies and goods, if required.” Wrathion said.

“You must understand,” the Broker explained, sounding apologetic. “Information from the Maw is difficult to come by, only recently have we been able to retrieve anything at all!”

“So it must be an extremely profitable venture.” Wrathion argued. “I cannot be the first to ask for the Mawsworn’s methods, I know the cartels are not averse to selling such information. All I want are their runes of domination.”

The Broker continued to chatter about the trouble of getting such information, while Taelia’s head filled with noise. What was Wrathion doing sneaking around asking about domination magic? What was he doing in the Shadowlands at all?

“What are you doing here?” Taelia shouted, stepping out into the middle of the path, and Wrathion’s head whipped around, red eyes glaring.

Wrathion then turned back to the Broker with a smile that was all teeth. “You assured me we would not be interrupted.”

“My sincerest apologies!” the Broker said. “Usually there’s no one else on the outer rings - ”

“It appears I will be taking my business elsewhere,” Wrathion flicked his fingers at the Broker. “Farewell.”

The Broker ducked their flickering head and scurried away, then Wrathion turned his full attention to Taelia.

“Lady Fordragon,” Wrathion said, with strained politeness as she approached. “I was not expecting to meet you here.”

_Once they were all seated facing each other, Anduin began speaking, shoulders tense. “I’ve been… dishonest. With both of you.” Taelia’s knotted stomach only protested further. This was unlike him, usually Anduin was so good with his own feelings. He had a way with words, she didn’t know what to do as he continued to stumble. “There are some choices I don't get to make because I have a duty to Stormwind. I know what my people need from me, but I couldn't ignore my feelings, that's not something I could live with. It’s not fair that I’ve been keeping you two in the dark.”_

_“Dithering doesn’t suit you,” Wrathion said. “What are you trying to say?”_

_Anduin looked back up at them both, ocean blue eyes wide, pleading._

_“I love you. Both of you.”_

“What are you doing asking about the Mawsworn?” Taelia demanded.

“I believe this is outside of your jurisdiction, Lady Fordragon.” Wrathion said, smooth as silk. “We are very, very far from Kul Tiras, after all.”

“I think it’s everyone’s business if you’re trying to learn how to enslave people,” Taelia snapped.

Wrathion stiffened, his eyes seemed to glow just a little brighter. “I would have thought I had earned some benefit of the doubt by now. I am not my Father, I am not Sylvanas, and I am not the Jailer.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Taelia demanded.

“Anduin is still being held in Torghast,” Wrathion began. “Since the champions’ missions to save him have failed, I’m stepping in to do it for them.”

“We’re making progress!” Taelia protested. “The Lord Admiral and the two Horde leaders were freed! Father just needs a bit more time to find out how to look deeper into Torghast and then we can - ”

“Anduin will not be saved from Torghast.” Wrathion said, cold as a mountain. “He’s being kept too close to the Jailer himself. We have no foothold in the Maw, and expeditions into the tower can only go so far. Anduin will only leave Torghast once they break him.”

“How _dare_ you!” Taelia shouted, almost screaming. “Anduin would never help someone like Sylvanas!”

“Not willingly.” Wrathion agreed, frost in his voice.

“How can you - how can you think so little of him?” Taelia continued to shout. “Do you really think he’ll just give up?”

“What he wants doesn’t matter,” Wrathion said. “They’ll take what they need from him.”

_“I love both of you,” Anduin said again, reaching his left hand for Wrathion, his right to Taelia. “I didn't want to have to choose, and I don't want to force anything in either of you. I don't even know how it would work...”_

_“It’s common for dragons to have multiple consorts,” Wrathion said, perfectly composed before Taelia could fully process Anduin’s words. “It is good you’re able to cast aside mortal prudishness.”_

_Anduin laughed, small and shy, and Wrathion took his offered hand. She could see the years they’d shared, treasured in this moment. She's only known Anduin about a year, Wrathion a few months. It was stupid of her to think those casual touches, the reverent way he says her name, meant anything._

_Taelia felt like a stranger, watching the scene through frosted glass. She still hasn’t taken Anduin’s hand._

_"What your people need from you," she said, mechanically. “So this is just about heirs.”_

_Anduin’s attention snaps to her, expression horrified. “No, Taelia, that’s not it at all! I swear, Taelia - ”_

_She stood and turned and ran and didn’t look back, tears in her eyes._

…she hadn’t seen Anduin again after that. She needed some time to think about it, figure out how she felt about Anduin and Wrathion, or Anduin with her, or all three of them, or what any of that would mean. Then she heard word he’d been taken by Sylvanas through the shattered sky. Then she learned her Father was still alive, and Anduin knew but didn’t tell her, he didn’t see fit to share such an important secret with her. She wonders if he told Wrathion. The ache in her chest from that night had roared into a burning jealousy.

"I know what this is really about," Wrathion said, his voice almost a hiss, “I know you can’t _stand_ the thought of _sharing_ , but Anduin chose me too, and you don't get to have a say in that.”

“We both know _you’re_ the one he really loves,” Taelia said, bitterly. “I’m just a means to an end.”

Wrathion snapped out of his anger, expression changing to utter confusion. “And you accused me of thinking so little of Anduin.”

Taelia glowered at him.

“He adores you,” Wrathion said. “You know that, right?”

She suddenly couldn't look Wrathion in the eye.

_“Taelia,” Anduin whispered, as if her name were a prayer, her hand in his. “There’s something I need to tell you.”_

“I think,” Wrathion said, softly. “There has been a misunderstanding.” He takes one careful step closer to her. “The Mawsworn’s domination isn’t the same as the Old God’s corruption,” Wrathion said, his voice gentler then before. “It isn’t absolute. Arthas had a moment of clarity before he died. Your own father had his will restored after the Helm of Domination was removed. The Jailer’s control can be undone. If Anduin can’t be saved from Torghast, then I will prepare to save him after. I have to understand the methods used to subjugate him first, before we can free him.” Wrathion leaned down a little, trying to catch Taelia's eye, seeming just a little more vulnerable. “We can win him back, I just need to figure out how.”

“I don’t know if I trust you,” she said, still staring at the floor.

Wrathion smirked, “Anduin used to say the same thing.”

Something about that made her blush, and tried not to think about it. “Father might know something,” she offered. “He’ll talk to you if I vouch for you.”

Wrathion is quiet for a moment. “I would be grateful, Taelia.”

She leads him to the Enclave, to her Father, to hope, as fast as she can go.


	2. and fear me not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, saving Mawduin with the power of love and hugs!
> 
> Content warnings include: canon typical violence, mild body horror, and brief nonsexual nudity

They hear about the attack on the Archon.

Anduin arrived in Elysian Hold looking hale and hearty, free from Torghast, asking for an audience with the Archon. Then he spoke with the Jailer’s voice, revealed Anduin’s new Maw-touched form, and stabbed the Archon.

The Archon survived, but was weakened, and Bastion demands justice.

Taelia receives the news from her Father, and she relays it to Wrathion. He barely reacts at first, looking past her with a blank, despondent stare. She wraps an arm around his shoulders, and leans her forehead against his. He wraps an arm around her waist, and holds on tight.

Neither say anything for a long, long time.

—

Their best guess is the Winter Queen in Ardenweald.

The Jailer spoke of a key when he attacked the Archon, but anyone they ask is either unable or unwilling to reveal what this could mean. Sire Denathrius was imprisoned and the Primus is missing, only the Winter Queen remains who they can safely assume the Jailer will target. Trying to chase Anduin across the Shadowlands was pointless with how little intel they had, setting a trap was their only hope.

They arrive at the Heart of the Forest and plead for an audience with the Wild Hunt, and a fae asks them to wait while they retrieve their leader. Taelia wanders the area, in awe of the place, for a moment allowing herself to forget their mission and simply explore. She’d grown so used to staying in Oribos she’d forgotten how strange and otherworldly the Shadowlands could be. She stares at one particular vine growing out of the wall, the stems covered in bright blooms with nearly transparent petals.

“Look at this,” Taelia snapped a flower’s stem so she could get a closer look, holding the bloom in her cupped hands. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

The petals are soft as silk and the edges shine like starlight, nothing like anything she’d ever seen or heard about back home. Wrathion looks over her shoulder at the flower with open fascination.

“How curious,” Wrathion said, touching one petal with the tip of his finger. “It must have something to do with the properties of the anima - ”

“Do not pull our flowers, mortal.”

Taelia and Wrathion both jump as a four legged sylvan with an eyepatch approaches them with a stern frown. “I will not have mortal hands break our trees and pick our blooms.”

 _“What makes you pull the rose?  
_ _What makes you break the tree?  
_ _What makes you come to the Crimson Thicket,  
_ _Without the leave of me?”_

Odd, she hasn’t thought of that ballad in years. Taelia drops the flower, embarrassed. “I apologize, my lord.”

“Ah, you must be our contact.” Wrathion said, perfectly professional.

“I am Lord Herne of the Wild Hunt,” said the sylvar. “I understand you come because you claim you can protect the Queen.”

“Yes,” Wrathion began. “I am the Black Prince Wrathion, and my companion is Taelia Fordragon. The Jailer’s newest… champion, is known to us. He is being compelled to assist the Jailer. He is held hostage in his own body, and we ask to be allowed to try and save him.”

“And why would we grant him mercy, when he could destroy us all?” Lord Herne said with winter's chill. “What is one soul, against the forest entire?”

“Freeing Anduin will be simpler than trying to kill him,” Wrathion argued, and Taelia is glad he is the one to make their case, she didn’t think she could manage to speak of such things in the same business-like tone. “He’s a vessel for the Jailer’s power, a force that in the past could only be bound. If we can’t restrain him we won’t have the power to defeat him. Allow us to deal with him, the threat will be neutralized, and the Winter Queens will remain safe with minimal loss on your side.”

“What is your plan, then?” Lord Herne asked, crossing his thick arms.

“From descriptions of his armor, I’ve identified three key points of control,” Wrathion said. “The gorget and both pauldrons bear active domination runes, if I can neutralize then physically remove or destroy all three armor pieces, the Jailer’s control will break.”

“You are certain of this?”

“Yes,” lied Wrathion, and Taelia hopes Lord Herne didn’t see through him. “I only need him restrained for a minute or two and it will be done.”

“That is a great deal of time to hold back The Banished One,” Lord Herne said. He scratches at the ground with one hoof as he thought. “But, if you believe that is all you need, then I will see to it that this aid is provided. But understand, if this fails, my hunters and huntresses will bring him down. We cannot risk the safety of our Queen and realm.”

“We understand,” Wrathion said, and they did, they understood down to their bones.

—

They wait.

There’s not much else they can do for now.

They’re permitted to make camp outside the Heart of the Forest where many of the fae dwell. Here, gentle streams trickle between wooden platforms upon which the fae setup their shops and homes. Taelia and Wrathion lean against a tree and people watch, sylvar and tiernenn going about their business, exchanging good and conversing with each other. It had a sense of normalcy and quiet Taelia hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

“This realm is so peaceful,” Taelia said, taking a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the forest and the moment of quiet. “I wouldn’t mind going to a place like this when I die.”

Wrathion doesn’t say anything, instead his jaw tightens and his gaze becomes distant. Just as she opens her mouth to ask, Wrathion speaks up.

“I almost forgot, I have something for you,” Wrathion kneels down to rummage through his pack, then produces a green cloak draped across both arms, which he holds out to her. “For you.”

Taelia took the cloak from him, taking in all the patterns and swirls across the length of it. “I hear you give every pretty face a cloak,” Taelia teased, running a hand across the fabric. It doesn’t feel like an earthly textile, not a thing of woven fiber but of woven smoke.

“I assure you, my wild, youthful days of handing out cloaks to just anyone are long gone,” Wrathion said with a smirk and a dramatic flick of his wrist. “And now I shall only give cloaks to my promised ones.”

Taelia smiles, pulling the cloak around her shoulders and clipping it to her armor. “Thank you.”

Wrathion’s smile fell slightly, but didn’t disappear entirely. “I once made a promise to Anduin, long ago,” Wrathion began wistfully. “That one day I would carry him on my back and ferry him to fascinating places, where we would have adventures that would age his father by ten years in one night. Varian Wrynn is gone, and I don’t know if Bolvar Fordragon ages anymore, but if we succeed, I plan on keeping that promise,” His red gaze slips back to her, his expression almost shy. “And extending it to you.”

Taelia closed her eyes, imagining the three of them on an adventure, her heart feeling just a little lighter. “That sounds incredible, and when we save Anduin, I know he’ll think so too.”

“If,” corrected Wrathion.

“When,” Taelia insisted.

Wrathion stares back out into the camp, eyes seeing something other than what was in front of him. “I wish I had your optimism.”

—

Word came by a spirit in the shape of a moth, flying as fast as she could.

“He’s here!” she cried. “He’s trying to get to the Heart of the Forest!”

Civilian fae are quickly evacuated, while the Wild Hunt mobilizes with impressive speed and efficiency, weapons and hearts ready. The two of them stand with the Hunt, Wrathion by her side, his sword in hand, Taelia gripping her own weapon with white-knuckled hands.

They’ve made their peace.

A dark shadow descends from the trees, the silhouette of a horse and a rider, and lands before the assembled soldiers. Hearing the stories did not prepare her to see what’s become of Anduin. His skin is ashen, his hair gray, and his eyes glow ice blue and stare blankly ahead. His armor is steel gray, domination runes aglow, animal skulls adorning his shoulders and breastplate, a mockery of the armor he wore during the Fourth War. He sat astride a shadow beast in the shape of a horse, a dark spirit draped in pale armor.

Taelia’s mind recalled when Anduin introduced her to Reverence. He’d been a sweet animal, not at all the disposition she expected from a war horse. He’d nuzzled her shoulder, searching for a hidden treat, and looked up at her with dark, gentle eyes. He had such a beautiful white coat…

 _“First let pass the black horse,  
_ _Then let pass the brown,  
_ _But run up to the milk white steed,  
_ _And pull his rider down.”_

Taelia shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory, forcing herself back to the present.

Anduin surveyed the armed forces before him, his blank expression changing into one of contempt that did not fit his face.

“ **Is this all**?” Anduin called in the Jailer’s voice, and it made Taelia sick to hear. “ **Can Ardenweald really do no better?** ”

“Wild Hunt!” called Lord Herne, raising his spear. “Defend your Queen and grove!”

The assembled fae yelled and Anduin charged forward, drawing the corrupted Shalamayne. The Maw horse screams, nothing like any natural horse would sound like.

As he draws close Wrathion summons a ball of fire in his free hand, and sends it hurtling toward Anduin, striking Anduin’s shoulder, the flame extinguishing as if it had struck only water. Anduin pulled on the reins, his Maw beast turning to charge directly at Wrathion. Wrathion moves like a dancer, gracefully dodging swipes of Anduin’s sword and the Maw horse’s bite, leaping over the small streams as he leads them to where the trap is set.

“Anduin! If you can hear me, I can free you!” Wrathion called. “Fight him if you can!”

Anduin’s face twists into a malicious sneer. “ **It is only a vessel, there is nothing left to save**.”

“Not to worry,” Wrathion growled. “I have words for you, too.”

Taelia lifts her hammer and strikes the Maw horse’s head, it staggers and shrieks, and she draws the Jailer’s gaze. Taelia doesn’t have Wrathion’s speed or agility, the very edge of Kingsmourne passing by her face, and she can feel a brief, chilling pull of its magic.

“It’s me! Taelia!” she cried. She glances behind Anduin and sees the hunters gathering up the heavy nets and bolas from where they were hidden earlier. The two of them just need to hold his attention for just a moment longer.

Behind him the hunters swing bolas and toss their net reinforced with thorns and vines as tough of steel. The bolas wrap around Anduin’s sword arm, and around the Maw horse’s legs, the heavy net falling over them both. Taelia and the hunters descend on Anduin, grabbing fistfuls of the netting and pulling it down, Taelia ignoring the thorns poking at her skin. A Wrathion approaches them sheathing his sword and raising his hands, readying the counterspell. They try to hold Anduin still as he and his mouth thrash in their bindings.

“It’ll be okay, Anduin,” Wrathion reaches up to touch the glowing runes on Anduin’s armor. “I’ll have you free soon - ”

The Jailer screams with rage, and with both hands raised Kingsmourne into the air. A blast of death magic tosses them all backwards, Taelia’s hands scratched and burned as she’s forced to let go of the net. She feels spectral chains wrap around her arms and torso as she staggers and falls to the ground. When the dark smoke clears she sees all the fae also wrapped in chains, and Anduin still on his steed, the rope and netting falling away like spider’s web in a harsh wind.

Wrathion runs to her side, unbinding magic already burning away the chains that had been around his own arms, and quickly works the magic to undo the chains around her. As he hauls her to her feet, Anduin looks at them both with an ugly, hateful snarl.

It had always been a slim chance, hoping that mere nets and rope would hold him, they only needed to buy time and now even that wasn’t enough.

Their plan won’t work. They can’t stop him.

A thousand possible futures play out in her mind: Wrathion impaled on Kingsmourne, every fae in chains, the groves awash with blood...

And in a moment of stillness, the memory of a songbird’s voice:

 _“And they will turn me in your arms,  
_ _Into a lion bold,_  
_But hold me fast and fear me not,  
_ _I am your own true love.”_

A song about a Kul Tiran maiden in love with a stolen man.

When the maiden went into the red forest to save him, she broke into the coven’s procession, pulled him down from his horse, and held him close while the witches turned him into all manner of terrible beasts. She still clutched him tight, knowing her love would do her no harm. When at last he turned into a naked man, she hid him from sight with her green mantle, and the curse was broken.

It was childish of Taelia to think of that now, to think something like that might work. But they were in the Shadowlands, and Taelia’s heard stories of doubt and pride made manifest, emotions given life in the lands of the dead. She had no magic, only her hammer and her will, but Ardenweald was a place of fae things and rebirth and maybe _maybe_ \- !

She’s already running, he hears Wrathion scream her name, Anduin raises his sword, and without thinking Taelia throws her hammer at him. Anduin is surprised by the strange the and desperate move, too slow to dodge or block so the head of the weapon collides with his chest, giving Taelia just the opening she needed to jump up and wrap her arms around his waist and pull.

They both land on the ground hard, the shock shaking her armor and bones. She hears the clatter of Kingsmourne falling from Anduin’s grasp to land feet away, the Maw horse screaming as the Wild Hunt descends upon it. Just as Anduin rises to his knees but before he could get his bearings, she quickly grabs the pinky and ring finger of Anduin’s right hand, and with a yank twists his arm behind his back. She wraps her other arms around his chest, pinning his upper arm to his body, and presses her weight onto the back of Anduin’s calves so he cannot stand up.

“ **What is this**?” Anduin thrashed in her arms, but couldn’t break free from her simple hold. “ **Release me**!”

“Taelia, what are you doing?” Wrathion shouted, panic in his voice.

“Hurry!” Taelia screamed. “I don’t know how long I can hold him!”

Wrathion snapped into action, sprinting over to them, already drawing fire-red runes in the air. His attention is focused on the first pauldron, tapping his claws against the metal as he recites incantations under his breath.

The Jailer roars, Taelia’s only warning before the armor shifts under her, the metal twists, and erupts into spikes, narrowly missing her face. Spikes continued to grow from the armor, and then some even began to burst bloody from Anduin’s skin. None of them pierce her.

She tried to concentrate, focused on her steel grip on Anduin’s hand, keeping her weight pinning his leg down, and holding him as close as she could. She wouldn’t let go, won’t let him fall again, because she loves him -

“Yes!”

The runes on Anduin’s right pauldron flicker and die. Wrathion reaches both hands under the pauldron and with a loud snap of leather rips the whole thing away to clatter to the ground yards away, inert.

Anduin writhes in Taelia’s hold, as if the damage to the armor hurt him. “ **What have you done**?” the Jailer shouted, the new spikes falling off like leaves in autumn. As Wrathion began to work on the next pauldron, dark smoke began to pour from between the gaps in Anduin’s armor, and begins to condense around his hands, back, and head.

\- she loves him so much, even if she was angry at him about her Father. She loves him and she knows Wrathion loves him too, knows it in the desperation in Wrathion’s face as he works the unbinding magic -

Taelia could only watch as Anduin’s hands became shadowy claws, two long spines grow from Anduin’s shoulder blades, and when he turns his head to look back at her it is with the skeletal face of a Maw soul eater. The terrible jaws opened, and he let out a horrific, inhuman howl.

“Wrathion!”

“Almost!” With another loud snap he rips away the second pauldron, the soul eater pitching forward and his smoky, monstrous form dissipating into air, changing back into Anduin.

“ **You will not take my weapon from me**!” the Jailer shouts as Wrathion began working on the gorget.

The runes change from blue to angry red, and Taelia begins to feel heat build in the metal under her hands.

\- and she knows Anduin loves them both too, and maybe it won’t work out but she wants to at least _try,_ wants to know the shape of the life they could have together -

The heat only grows until the armor begins to glow with it, but never quite enough to burn Taelia. The fire begins to spread under Anduin’s skin too, his veins bright with a hellish flame, and then Anduin began screaming.

“WRATHION!”

“Got it!”

“ **NO**!”

Just as Wrathion dragged his claws across the molten metal of the gorget, gouging out the runes, Anduin surged to his feet with a burst of unnatural strength, the Jailer’s feral cry in his throat. Thinking only of protecting Wrathion, Taelia shifted her weight and twisted, dragging both Anduin and herself down and over the edge of the platform and into the surrounding river.

Cold water splashed over her, the chill briefly stunning her, but the stream was shallow here, and the current gentle, more of a caress than a tug. She’s able to quickly pull herself up to her hands and knees, hair and armor dripping, looking around frantically until she spots Anduin.

He lays on his side, water running over his legs and hips, his long gray hair a veil over his face. Before her eyes his armor is disintegrating, blackening, curling up and falling away like burning paper becoming ash. Consumed by its own fire, the last of the Maw-touched armor fell and is washed away by the river, revealing scarred, bruised skin, and leaving him laying nude in the water. Anduin does not move.

Fear seizes Taelia by the throat, she crawls to him, splashing through the water as she rushes to his side. She reaches an arm around his bare shoulders and hoists him up to a sitting position, and with her other hand brushes his hair from his face. She can see now he’s still breathing.

He looks up at her.

The glow in his eyes is gone, his skin has been restored to a healthier tone, and the stunned, fearful expression is his own. Taelia unclasps her green cloak with shaking fingers, and wraps it around Anduin’s shoulders, doing her best to hide him from sight, just to be sure. Anduin reaches up a hand to clutch the cloak tight, like a blanket. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her, as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear.

“Taelia…?” Anduin said, his voice hushed but unmistakably his own. Anduin reaches out for her, but flinches as if struck, looking down at his own hand with a mix of fear and disgust. She wants nothing more in all the world than for Anduin to never look at himself like that again.

She glances over his shoulder to see a number of fae beginning to cluster around them, still a fair distance, but growing more curious now the fight was over. Anduin’s gaze follows hers, and when he spots the crowd he turns to hide his face in his hands. Taelia wraps her arms around his shoulders, casting a glare at the fae, protectiveness swelling in her heart.

Wrathion, now in his dragon form, walks over to them and curls his long body around them, back to the crowd, extending one wing just enough to keep them shaded from view.

“Are you with us, my dear?” Wrathion said, voice hushed, as he nudges Anduin’s arm with his snout.

“Wrathion…” Anduin hesitantly put a hand on Wrathion’s shout, then looks back at Taelia. He doesn’t seem to know what to do. “Did I…?”

Taelia shook her head, tears beginning to well in her eyes, as she reaches out and touches his cheek.

“You didn’t hurt us,” Taelia whispered. “You’d never hurt us.”

“You have nothing to fear now.” Wrathion murmured, his voice soft as a lullaby. “We’re here to bring you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up and spake the Fairy Queen,  
> And angry cried she,  
> “If I’d have known of this Tam Lin,  
> That some lady’d borrowed thee,
> 
> “If I’d have known of this Tam Lin  
> Before we came from home,  
> I’d have plucked out thine heart of flesh  
> And put in a heart of stone!”
> 
> \- The Ballad of Tam Lin


End file.
